


I Lived

by jemmasimmns (laurellance)



Series: reflections (a harry potter fanfiction collection) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6431416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurellance/pseuds/jemmasimmns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Pettigrew and the Seven Sins</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Lived

**Author's Note:**

> this was written seven months ago, and cross posted from my lj. 
> 
> no corrections have been made to it, so all mistakes are mine. (tumblr is @barnsebucky)

  
**sloth; i.**

They all say it. In different forms, variations, but always the same message: _You're lazy_. Whether it's an Potions Essay, or a Transfiguration assigment, or just tending to plants, they all see it. Put more effort in, says McGonagall. Try harder, says Sprout encouragingly.

But they don't see it. They don't see any of the work he puts in, for his friends. He puts off his Potions Essay to let Sirius rant to him. He lets James use what he uses for Transfiguration for pranks. He lets Remus borrow his Potions textbook, because Remus's is falling apart. So he takes the bad marks, he takes the dispraising looks from his professors.

_(years later, he reflects. he had everything sacrificed he had for them during those years. was it worth it?_

he can not give any answer but yes in the end.)

 

**greed; ii.**

Peter is eleven, listening to James fret over the health of his mother and father.

_(peter is thirty one, watching new fifth year prefect percy weasley write letters to bill and charlie)_

Peter is twelve, the first to acknowledge Remus's secret.

_(peter is thirty two, listening to rumours of the philospher's stone: percy is worried sick)_

Peter is thirteen, when he overhears Lily first arguing with Snape.

_(peter is thirty three, hiding in percy's trunk for the night. he'll be gone by daybreak.)_

Peter is fourteen, when Sirius first confides in him.

_(peter is thirty four, cutting his right hand off. he misses the weasleys, percy especially)_

Peter is fifteen, bouncing between Sirius, Remus, and James: they trust him with their life.

_(peter is thirty five, trying to cheer the other death eaters up. they don't care if he talks about percy.)_

Peter is sixteen, maintaining peace between Remus and Sirius.

_(peter is thirty six, desperate, and broken. not even news about percy can cheer him up)_

Peter is seventeen, watching them all rely on him, yet growing apart at every turn.

_(peter is thirty seven, hoping death will overtake him. he hates everything now)_  


  
  


  
**pride; iii.**

Peter is fifteen, changing from a human to a rat for the first time. It's difficult, but he's accomplished it. Remus awaits hopefully, with the expectation that he can do it. James watches with excitement, because he has total faith in Peter. Sirius watches nonchalantly, but his eyes are aglow with anticipation.

His bones start changing shape, magic changing their shape, their length, their width. The pain is excruciating, but he takes it, because it will be worth it. His body hair starts growing in all places, getting longer and longer as he gets smaller and smaller.

_I've done it._  


 

 

  
**lust; iv.**

He's seen it done for over a decade, he's seen it done over and over again. It's surprisingly easy to recreate. As the eggs beat themselves, the soup boils automatically, the potatoes skin themselves.

It's almost a therapy, relieving at every turn.

The eggs are beaten to liquid, the soup evaporated, the potatoes only in shreads, but he doesn't care.

 

 

  
**envy; v.**

Sometimes, if he views them from a distance, he thinks that they are absolutely beautiful. The confident, funny James Potter, with his arrogent, graceful best friend Sirius Black. The intelligent, kind Remus Lupin. They're masterpieces, beautiful exhibits of art.

They're the best, the most beautiful. The infallible, worthy of worship even. They are like gods, whatever they wish is their command. They know of no trouble, but only of the best. Protected, sheltered, like a prized accomplishment. Put out for the world to see, an exhibit of beauty.

Sometimes he wishes he was better, he was like them. Sometimes, in his darkest moments, he wishes he could _be_ them. But he knows them well, well enough to know that they are flawed in the most human of ways. They fear, they break. They cry, they laugh. They make mistakes.

They're not gods, no, but they're the closest thing he knows to gods.

 

 

  
**gluttony; vi.**

He collects debts like kisses. An essay here, a cheat there. He can't find the heart to care, to repay them.

But yet they increase, and the more they do, the more he learns about them.

The secrets are payment enough.

  
**wrath; vii.**  
  
At the end of his life, he is angry. Angry at the world, the people around him, but mostly himself.  
  
_It's all your fault._  
  
He dies hating himself, his greatest regret being the last thing he ever sees. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you squint, you can tell the themes. if not, i honestly have forgotten at this point.


End file.
